Page 59 of A Really Bad Idea

I sit up straight. “The procedure itself is quick, but the pre- and post-op procedures take time.”

He shoves his phone in his khakis. “I’m getting coffee. You want one, Dad?”

Our dad shakes his head, so Brian saunters to the far side of the waiting room where there’s a row of vending machines.

“Does he seem extra on edge to you?” I ask my dad, who shrugs.

“He was fine yesterday. We played eighteen holes on the golf course and had drinks in the clubhouse.”

“Great. So, he’s a total ass just around me.”

“You know your brother. He doesn’t express his feelings well.”

I nod, agreeing with my dad. “I need caffeine, too.”

Brian is standing at the vending machine with his hands in his pockets as he waits for his drink to be made. I sidle up next to him and listen to the screeching sound of the coffee brewing down.

“Everything good at the office?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m missing a meeting, so I’ve been getting briefed.”

Brian is the senior vice president of strategy and finance at a major brokerage firm. He’s all numbers and analytics.

“I’m sure the team is on top of things.” I look at my watch. “You’ll be in the office before lunch.”

“I’m not concerned. Mom is more important.” His words are kind, but the delivery is abrupt. “If you have somewhere more important to be, then go.”

“I’m going to chalk that up to the fact that you’re upset about Mom and taking it out on me.”

“You want one?” He grabs his coffee and then puts money in for me. A gentlemanly courtesy.

“Thanks.” I step up and look up the number-letter code for a latte.

“So, have you frozen your eggs yet?”

My finger halts on the button. “I took an appointment.”

“You’re really going to do this?” He’s incredulous.

I look behind us to where our father is still watching the TV and too far away to hear this conversation. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“I would if I thought they’d talk sense into you.”

I half-laugh and punch in my code for a latte. “Mom will probably hold my hand for my insemination. She’ll pick a random man off the street and ask for his sperm.”

“It’s so impersonal,” he states.

“It is.”

“Who will help you raise this baby?”

His words cause my head to pop up, and my eyes widen. “Why do I need anyone’s help?”

“You think this will be easy?”

“No. I—”

“Thomas!” Dad’s voice interrupts our conversation.